eve6262

[eve6262]

happy birthday komaeda

Someone sits on a ledge in a ruined city and thinks about jumping.

The fall is deadly. His body has always been weak, frail and untrustworthy; even his own luck couldn't save him. There's nothing soft down there, harsh edges and rusty rebar tempting him into a fate guaranteed. Few things in his life have been guaranteed, and something about that promise feels comforting, like it's the one thing he'll always have up his sleeve.

In his mind's eye, he jumps. He falls. His imagination has always been lively, but for some reason, this part is blank. "I die" is the only thing he can come up with- the image eludes him. He's scared, maybe, of truly seeing it- the same thing happened when he was kidnapped, mind hazy and gone, wondering: "what happens if he forgets to feed me?" He doesn't want to remember that.

He remembers it anyway, because the one thing the cancer refuses to take his is memory.

When Kamakura looked at him, he thought he might implode. Not for the reason the others thought- something about hope and despair and a name that tastes like sweet poison on his tongue. Not because he was infatuated, even if he is. Because Kamakura looked right through him and saw whatever vines twisted a thousand times over his heart and had the gall to say, "What was the diagnosis?"

He already knew. Komaeda doesn't know why he asked. But he did, and Komaeda answered, and then he huffed, turned on his heel, and walked away.

(That wasn't Komaeda. That was Servant, someone who doesn't exist, a shell of a person.)

Are the children looking for him? He doesn't care, and they don't care; this is a moment to himself, while everything falls apart around them. Monaca could manage on her own if she wished; there's a cruel boredom to her smile, but no matter what anyone seems to think, it's different. There's something hollow about it, something lonely, something sad. Something like the look in his own eyes when he smiles in the mirror.

And Towa City is at least calm. Already destroyed in some sense, largely intact in another. So of course he ended up here. There's no battle for him to fail through or politics to ruin. He just has to sit here, and mess up whatever job given to him, and be laughed at.

He thinks of a serial killer and writer sharing a body and laughs.

He thinks about Kamakura and stops.

He thinks about jumping.

---

"Komaeda, are you sure you're okay?"

They're sitting in a room together. Outside Future Foundation headquarters, but not far- they want to keep tabs on the group, considering heavily whether they'll be let in or not. Some are a given- Fuyuhiko, Hajime, Sonia. Others are questionable- Mikan, Teruteru, himself. Komaeda isn't sure what the suits think, but he imagines Hajime will be staunch about it, and he'll be let in as the group will. Even if he's only a patient for Mikan to fuss over when there's little to do, that's fine.

He has never minded being just a body for the machine. As long as the machine is working towards good ends, he can be a nothing gear.

"Of course. Don't worry about me."

To be specifically accurate, Hajime is half-sitting half-laying in bed, blearily looking at him from across the room, as Komaeda sits at a desk on a laptop. He woke up an hour ago and wanted to be busy with something, anything as a distraction, and he keeps the apartment spotless out of the same urge. But there isn't much work anyone piles onto him, so he's just sitting here, wondering a bit aimlessly why he opened the accursed thing.

Why he woke up is irrelevant, really. People wake up at four AM sometimes, it's nothing strange.

(He remembers stale wind and red skies, and a building, and thinking about plumetting. Except, in his dream, he actually falls, and falls, and falls, and then there's a spear in his heart and-)

Hajime closes his eyes, and falls back on the bed. Komaeda turns back to the laptop, and decides that if he can't do anything productive, he can at least try to bring Hajime's files into some semblance of order.

For a moment, he thinks that's all it'll be. And then he hears the blanket shuffle, and footsteps, and he says, "Am I keeping you up?"

"No," Hajime tells him, circling his arms around his front. Breath hitches in his throat- he can't stand to look back. Disappointment could fill his eyes, or annoyance furrow his brow, or pity worry at his lip, and all three of them would destroy him like a shattered porcelain doll. So he doesn't look back, even if he does sit back in the chair a little. "I'm not really sleepy anyway."

("I'm don't get tired easily," a quiet Kamakura tells him unprompted. He's rarely responding to questions, anticipating them and answering before they leave your lips. "They wanted efficiency." Servant hears what's unsaid and stores it in the shell he's got left of what he was.)

"Did you want to use the laptop?"

Silence meets him. Anxiety frays at his heart- what's Hajime thinking? Is he waiting? Hoping he'll come back to bed so he can make sure Komaeda is sleeping enough for his condition? That's Mikan's job, to worry over his health- he hopes Hajime isn't back to that old haunt that Kamakura used to take up when the two of them were in Towa City. To this day he isn't sure what about it drew the man in.

"You should tell me what it was," is what Hajime settles on.

Komaeda smiles. It's an instinct, like a deer in headlights; if something's too prying, smile and wave it away. "Nothing, really. Just couldn't sleep."

"...That's not true," Hajime insists. But there's sleep still stuck in his throat, thick and syrupy; if he plays his cards right. maybe Hajime will decide he's too much trouble and go back to bed.

("You're trouble," Kamakura states. It's not a question and doesn't sound like a complaint, and it's not like Servant could respond to such a thing while bedridden. There are more words, but sadly, his consciousness fails him, and they all sound like static.)

"...It's nothing I can't deal with myself. You should go to bed- you sound tired."

Hajime just makes a noise, properly bending down into a hug. His arms tighten, and Komaeda almost wants to look back, but doesn't. Now it feels like cheating, peering at an answer he's supposed to solve himself. And he's never been opposed, but the shame curls around him like a serpent.

"I'll join you in a minute," Komaeda promises.

"...I wasn't having a great dream either," Hajime tells him, and course he knew the whole time. It doesn't take a genius to have figured that out. But he was hoping it could be kept in its box where it's contained, not growing, simply existing. A therapist would tell him that's a bad idea, but Komaeda thinks he knows his own brain well enough to cope nowadays. "It was about Towa City."

"Ah."

"You were standing on a high rooftop. I was across the street in a building, watching from a window."

Komaeda puts a hand on his, tentatively and slowly, in case it'd be rejected. Hajime takes it in his, tight and secure. "You were looking down. And I couldn't move."

"And then?"

Hajime pauses. "And then I felt cold, so I woke up. I don't know what was going to happen."

"I see."

"But I think Kamakura does."

Komaeda says nothing. Kamakura's powers of observation are second to none, and of course the husk that Servant was never cared to hide anything he didn't need to. If Kamakura had looked at him for even a nanosecond while he was up on a building, he'd probably see the image in his mind.

(They're on top of one such building. Servant is staring at the edge in lieu of disgracing Kamakura with his eye. He does not notice the arm moving until it's already around his shoulder, tugging him closer. He assumes, in this moment, that Kamakura is cold, or maybe that he thought the ground was going to collapse that close to the edge.)

"You were thinking about jumping," Kamakura states plainly.

"Yes." Hiding from Kamakura is silly. It's like trying to socialize in a hospital bed. "Back then, anyways."

"Come to bed," he states plainly. "It is worse alone."

Komaeda obliges, because he knows there isn't much getting out of it. He shuts the laptop and gets up, Kamakura trailing him into the bed. Laying down is awkward, unsure of what Kamakura wants- which turns out to be fine, because he doesn't care much about taking it for himself, burying his face in Komaeda's neck and pulling him close.

It's warm. With whichever one of them- Hajime, Kamakura, both if they'd prefer that thought- it's hard to think about that moment, because in the memory it is cold and dry and distant and lonely, and now there is a beating heart so loud in his ears it's hard to think.

"...I am glad you never did," he says. "While I was there I would have stopped you. But there were moments you could have."

"There were," Komaeda says. And, truthfully, he thinks that black void is the reason he didn't. The lack of an idea, the sudden fear of the plunge when he imagined the end- Servant could only do things he could imagine, and he couldn't imagine the final moment. Even in the end, he was scared- it would make him hysterical if not for the calm, collected beating heart he feels under his hands. "...That's over now."

"Even if it isn't," Kamakura tells him, "I would rather know you are safe."

He thinks about saying something in response, but they really were tired. After a few more moments, their breathing evens out so suddenly he thinks Kamakura must be able to enter REM on command- the thought is almost funny.

But, really, it's hard to be distracted by anything when there's a beating heart so close to his own.

#danganronpa #writing #nagito komaeda #happy birthday komaeda #love studying you and your weird lil brain #my son <3 he has every mental illness #hajime hinata #izuru kamakura #hajime and izuru are different people in the same body #because it was convenient and poignant #reads either way though so go nuts #no beta sorry I cranked this bitch out in like 2 hours

[eve6262]

heyy, i read your ISAT fic 'hard to forget, hard to remember' today and i really liked it!! i was just wondering since it stood out to me, but in chapter 3, there's this moment with the croissants and in the fic, Siffrin remembers the burnt taste of charcoal, referring to that moment in the game where they tell the party that they hate croissants cause he ate a burnt one once. but since it's later revealed that (in a missable moment) that that wasn't the real reason he hates croissants, i was reading it and thinking '...do they know?' especially cause it's a missable moment.

so if you do know and just forgot or just didn't want to put it in your fic, then just ignore me haha, but if you really missed it, i do recommend looking it up or playing it again, cause triggering that specific croissant backstory unlocks the true epilogue with Loop so i think it'd really be a shame if you missed out on that! anyway, really liked your fic, keep it up :D

I didn't see it actually! I was debating looking it up but just hadn't gotten to it yet, though I do know about the Loop epilogue. I've played a lot of RPG maker games, so my playthrough was very streamlined "how do I do the next thing" haha. I think the only optional stuff I triggered was...come to think of it, not entirely sure? I mentioned (by proxy) that I only needed 50 loops or so to beat the game, and that doesn't leave a ton of room for shenanagins, haha.

~Eve6262

#words of the dead #thank you for the ask! #also appreciate you read that fic. hope you enjoyed! #I will be looking up the croissant thing now though #or at least how to trigger it. if I can get it early I will #if not. youtube it is #isat #isat spoilers

[eve6262]

slbvflsbdlsmdbsl I love this so much

-Eve6262

doodled a moment from chapter 2 of the fic "hard to forget, hard to remember" by @eve6262! I <333 I adore it so much <333

#in stars and time #someone else's art #HELLO #alebclsisb thank you so much for liking my fic enough to draw a moment from it #aaaaaaa

[eve6262]

Please bite me next time i say im gonna make an animated sprite edit anyways . metronome !!!! this took me five hours help

#cookie run #timekeeper cookie #reblog

[eve6262]

before I post anything else about purge march (large possibility) I wanna state here that I DON'T THINK THE DEAD PERSON IS A CULT MEMBER.

or, well, mostly.

okay, so, a lot of the comments are being very condescending to people who metavoted amane T1 to get her to realize she was in a cult. personally, I was never convinced it would work on the first try, and my thought was always it was going to be guilty/guilty/inno, but that's beside the point. many of the comments I see are promoting the theory that she killed her dad.

I don't think this is true.

firstly, this song is very "I see, I fucked up because I went against the cult and I was not severe enough. for that, I will atone." it does not fit the tone of her mentality. this is weak evidence, but is important context for the rest of the points.

secondly, the person who killed them was Uniform Amane (as opposed to Real Amane). Uniform Amane is the one who's fully indoctrinated in this MV, representing the cult beliefs and her actions according to them. Real Amane is shown almost entirely sad and abused, especially in context of the cat. only one shot is shown of that Amane quite smiling, and it's after the abuse, so it can be assumed to be either indoctrination or a mask (arguably both)

Uniform Amane would not have killed the leader of the cult. It would have been represented by Real Amane, because in context of the MV and Amane's worldview, it would've been "an impulsive action against the core tenants."

thirdly, Amane doesn't seem to be very passionate about this kill. In fact, she seems rather calm. I (and others) assumed that the kill was very passionate due to the intense nature (beating someone to death with a stick) and Magic, but I think this was incorrect. At least, Uniformed Amane seems very calm. This implies it falls in line with the cult beliefs.

finally, Magic. I find a lot of people tend to forget about the details of the previous MVs when evaluating new ones, and they're still important- they tell us valuable clues. in Magic, after the Incident, all four members of the cult are still alive, and in fact dancing with the newly repentant Amane. therefore, I think it doesn't make sense that she killed a cult member.

so I don't think it was her father. It is possible, but if it is true, it would be in a context where the cult would approve. something like Amane's father taking medication and assuming his daughter would cover for him, but she, indoctrinated and losing her mind, did the opposite and punished him herself. however, there is no evidence to support that in particular, so I have no reason to think it was her father.

I think it was "unrelated" to the events of the MV, in the sense that the events of the MV radicalized her, but are not directly tied to the incident in which she kills someone. they are simply what drove Uniform Amane into existence.

#milgram #amane milgram #amane momose #words of the dead #purge march #lmk if anything supports or doesn't support me in the interrogation #I haven't seen it yet #I hope I'm right though #because that would be cool and I would feel good about my media literacy

[eve6262]

yeet

yo moth?

#words of the dead

[eve6262]

just watched ("just watched" meaning played on loop for an hour) cat and oh my god. first of all, banger. kazui's first song was good but too slow and emotional for me to listen to that often but this one is so fun. he's having fun(?).

but the mahiru parallels. THE MAHIRU PARALLELS. mahiru doing anything she can to stay in a relationship that's actively hurting them both / kazui only keeping up the bare minimum for the marriage and wanting to take a break from it, wishing for someone else. mahiru getting attached to the first person who shows her affection / kazui wanting to be caressed but his wife can't cut it, because he doesn't want to be with a woman. kazui started out asking for a guilty verdict and blaming himself and now he's wondering if he's really innocent, still calling himself the perpetrator / mahiru getting a guilty verdict and swinging 180 from "I didn't do anything!" to "it's all my fault it's all my fault"

and the SONG PARALLELS. both of them have this equation theme, like love and relationships are just a problem to be solved ("Clothes Food Shelter + Love and Miss You" // "Love plus destiny = Crap, smash it, shatter it, bye-bye"), a void to be filled based on prerequisites. mahiru falling in love with the first person she was interested and deciding that once it was mutual, this must be real / kazui deciding that since his partner seemed to like him, and he "should" be interested in women, it would be a good pick. he surely liked her as a good friend, as well, because of how much they worked together / mahiru not knowing her boyfriend pre relationship at all.

the animal theming too- kazui calls himself a cat, to be loved but not pinned down, and bites the dove's wing off. it was supposed to be freeing, to finally be in a relationship, to have people not ask him when he's going to settle down anymore- but it's not, he can't stand it, it's prey to be consumed, bothers him with every ruffle of its feathers. mahiru feeding her boyfriend rats because she thinks that's what love is supposed to taste like, rotting and sour and rancid but she'll be damned if she doesn't have it.

#milgram #milgram cat #milgram kazui #mahiru shiina #what's kazui's last name again #sorry to turn cat debut into the mahiru special #but I am so not normal about her #they are opposites but they are the same #do you get me #words of the dead

[eve6262]

no, because I am not immortal, and therefore could not conceive of such an existence. is life within the consciousness? if yes, then perhaps time itself is not immortal; if not, then the concept of the toaster counts.

one cannot "live" as a toaster, but if that is the case, then one cannot "die" as the toaster, either.

People love to talk about the immortality of the machine, but I'm a mechanical engineer, so I know they delude themselves. Most machines are far more mortal than flesh.

How long does a machine last? A car is a very solid machine, expensive, precision designed, and you're lucky if you get more than three decades out of them.

Your enemy is not the flesh. It's entropy. It's the death knell of the energy imbalance. If you want to live as a complex machine you will, by necessity, generate a great deal of entropy until your machine breaks irrevocably.

You want to be immortal? Then don't worship the machine, worship the stone, the forest. Seek that which is either simple enough to never know death or diffused enough to accept every death.

#words of the dead #love the thoughts btw op #I am just insane about mortality and existence

[eve6262]

the sand does not fall eternally unless it is turned before the clock ends. the sand itself is, in a sense, eternal, but both unliving and without a spirit. like a rock.

the toaster is eternal in both memory and spirit. it has purpose and a will to be built, and in such replicates ad infinitum. a better comparison is thus: the sand in the hourglass does not eternally fall, but the hourglass itself is eternity.

or, another way: the ship of theseus, forever repaired, is immortal so long as there is someone to replace its wood planks.

People love to talk about the immortality of the machine, but I'm a mechanical engineer, so I know they delude themselves. Most machines are far more mortal than flesh.

How long does a machine last? A car is a very solid machine, expensive, precision designed, and you're lucky if you get more than three decades out of them.

Your enemy is not the flesh. It's entropy. It's the death knell of the energy imbalance. If you want to live as a complex machine you will, by necessity, generate a great deal of entropy until your machine breaks irrevocably.

You want to be immortal? Then don't worship the machine, worship the stone, the forest. Seek that which is either simple enough to never know death or diffused enough to accept every death.

#words of the dead

[eve6262]

Rb this with that one repetitive voice line from a fighting game/any other media that’s stuck with you ages later even if you don’t remember any others

#“better than a snare” is the one I quote most #h'aanit my beloved #(therion is my favorite from OT1 don't be fooled) #octopath traveler

[eve6262]

the mushroom lives eternally, for its spirit binds not to flesh

similarly, the spirit of the machine is not always in its gears and pistons. your toaster is not eternal. the toaster is eternal.

People love to talk about the immortality of the machine, but I'm a mechanical engineer, so I know they delude themselves. Most machines are far more mortal than flesh.

How long does a machine last? A car is a very solid machine, expensive, precision designed, and you're lucky if you get more than three decades out of them.

Your enemy is not the flesh. It's entropy. It's the death knell of the energy imbalance. If you want to live as a complex machine you will, by necessity, generate a great deal of entropy until your machine breaks irrevocably.

You want to be immortal? Then don't worship the machine, worship the stone, the forest. Seek that which is either simple enough to never know death or diffused enough to accept every death.

#words of the dead

[eve6262]

happy birth komaeda (sorry)

Wind lazily drifts through buildings, waving fabric but ignoring the settled dust that still covers a lot of Towa City. The sun has long been replaced by an eternal gred haze that seeps into your mind until you forget what the brilliant blue sky used to look like. Pictures of youth become impossible.

As if he wanted to look at them anyway.

The taste of bile rises in his mouth. It always does; Kamakura-Hajime tried to give him medicine, but failed to account for his luck. Of course he'd be allergic to a component he'd never tried.

They were in a lab the other day, furiously working at it. Desperate. Mikan, too, wished for their success; whether for the scientific gain or his own sake is a mystery. But Fuyuhiko gave him a look in the hallway earlier, and so quite easily he snuck out of his own accord.

How he ended up in Towa City is a bit of a mess. But the wind is gentle as it wraps his coat around him, as if to preserve whatever warmth is heart is still generating. It's thick, still comfortable after all these years. Maybe it isn't even the fabric. Maybe it's the memory, the one thing that's stayed with him through thick and thin. People left him, despise him, and hope itself ebbs and flows like the tide-

But he still has his coat. Ripped at the ends and faded from its glory days (of which there were few), it stays faithfully intact.

A red string wraps its way around his wrist. He gently tugs at it in response.

They'll probably find him eventually. Or maybe Monaca will. Last reported sign of her, she went into space, but he knows quite well that won't last. Monaca gets bored easily, and something ties her to this place, no matter how much she wants to insist it doesn't matter. She'll be back, whether on the side of hope or despair. Or neither.

Pity the poor child.

The city is silent now, at least. All the old Monokuma robots have since either lost their power or forgotten their purpose, listlessly wandering. Shirokuma and Kurokuma are probably still around, but neither of them have a care for him anymore. Monaca is gone, after all, and the old Warriors of Hope are safely within Future Foundation bounds.

Everyone is safe. Well cared for. Working to further the future with their own talents.

Everyone save for him.

He's sure there's a purpose, in the mind of the more pragmatic. Kamakura probably thinks it, and Togami has likely agonized over the decision, and Munakata absolutely wanted him dead at some point. It's probably some message about human life, how everyone is worth saving so long as you can try, and despite his insanity he can be helpful. Even if he isn't.

Or maybe they're hopeful that his existence will spur Kamakura to develop that cure. Frontal temporal dimentia isn't exactly common by any means, but a cure for cancer is a cure for cancer. It'd be great marketing.

And if he dies to a gun after that? Well. A bullet is a bullet.

He almost wishes the wind were harsher. Howling, whistling through broken windows, pushing billowing clouds of ruin into the sea. If he closes his eyes, he can imagine it; the chill spreading through his bones, seeping in and trying to freeze that heart already struggling. Maybe it would manage it.

Or maybe he'd just keep shivering on this roof till it passed, because of course he'd be that unlucky.

A sigh leaves his throat. He should go get something to eat, probably.

And then the world goes dark.

---

He wakes up in a hospital bed.

Again.

Kamakura- and that is Izuru, most definitely- is staring at him.

Again.

"Aha. Found me quicker than I thought you would."

"I knew you would end up in Towa," he mutters. He doesn't bother with inflection or volume. There's something about him he can't hide from Komaeda. He stopped trying after an entire week. "But I am unsure why you left."

"I thought it was obvious."

Silence passes. Kamakura isn't considering what he wants to say- he would never bother. He's puzzling through something instead. Or maybe that semi-mixed consciousness between the two of them is giving him problems.

"You don't want a cure," Kamakura eventually states.

And Komaeda sighs.

"Would you rather I be honest?"

"Yes." It's unambiguous, even for Izuru.

"Very well, Kamakura-kun. If that's what you want."

The sun doesn't shine outside. It's not blue outside his window, or dark because the police raided the killer's home and found him in the dumpster and it took two days for him to wake up. They are not calling to tell him he was accepted into Hope's Peak Academy without applying.

"Who will be happy if I'm cured?"

The sky is blood red.

"Don't lie to me and say our classmates. The rest of the Foundation thinks I should be exiled. I doubt even Tsumiki truly wants me cured."

It bleeds for what it was once. A world now turned into the end; is there even any escaping it? When the atmosphere itself is so horribly rotten from warfare with weaponry they should've never invented? When the planet is ruined from all they've done?

"They just want a cure for the disease. They couldn't care less who has it."

"I would be happy," Kamakura says quietly.

Komaeda turns to him.

His eyes are red. Well, Kamakura's eye is red; the other is still green, somehow. Perhaps they are the window to the soul.

The color of blood. Of memories of sterile operating rooms being stained red after operation after operation after operation; the definition of insanity, of doing the same tests over and over and over again and expecting a different outcome. Of broken mirrors and thoughtless gazes.

And then Kamakura leaves the room.

Komaeda looks to the clock on the bedside table. 4/28, it glares back at him.

What an unlucky date.

----

sorry I made you sad my son. I was gonna draw you something but I do not have the energy for art right now.

~Eve6262

#writing #nagito komaeda #izuru kamukura #hajime hinata #danganronpa #sdr2 #kamukoma #komahina #I do not elaborate on hajime and izuru's status #it's weird #you're just gonna have to roll with this one

[eve6262]

playing with her like a paper doll hehe

one of these was inspired by a recent kanaria song

~Eve6262

#throne anguis #octopath traveler #octopath traveler 2 #octopath #art #drawing

[eve6262]

now vs then

OT 2 SPOILERS // Throne and Father-centric, not ship (hopefully obviously).

Sometimes it’s hard to read Father.

Mother is obvious. She doesn’t bother hiding her emotions, because why should she? She’s the one with the whip, the one who makes the plans; her obvious glee makes her all the more frightening. Mother doesn’t care about that sort of thing.

But with Father, it’s harder.

The two of them are in one of the upper rooms of the den. Most Blacksnakes aren’t allowed up here, having rooms in other buildings across the New Delsta backstreets or something in the basement, but Father said she was special because of how young she joined them, so she lives in the den. The killing and crime she could do without, but a fluffy bed and pretty pictures are nice to come home to.

Father sits at the desk, though he’s turned around the chair so he can watch her practice her knife work. Every now and again he gives a pointer- “A little more momentum, less force-” and she complies. There’s a smile on his face.

His eyes are...harder to read.

There’s something that she thinks is supposed to be pride, in there. It’s probably to do with his own knife skills- second to none and killer of the most well-guarded targets, he’s certainly got reason to be proud of that. She’s gotten well enough into her own skills to understand how hard it is to fully master so many different blades and wield them as well as he does.

But something else is completely foreign to her. It’s not like the way his eyes glitter when he describes the fresh scent of blood, or the thrill of the kill. It’s not like the way his eyes haze over a little when he’s had one too many glasses of whiskey, and his voice gets a little raspier. It doesn’t even look like the time she mentioned that she liked talking to Pirro because he was nice to her, and he knelt down on her level and said, “If he ever tries something on you, you come tell me, okay?”

She, of course, said, “Why would I need to do that?”

And he laughed. And then looked her dead in the eyes and made her promise. Maybe it’s a personal thing.

It’s always a personal thing with the Blacksnakes.

Not for Throné, though. She likes Pirro, is friends with Scaracci and Donnie, but she doesn’t go out of her way to hate other people. Nobody’s ever done something so mean to her she wanted to hurt them. It’s never been personal. Maybe that comes with being barely twelve years old, maybe that comes with hating the smell of blood. She isn’t sure.

Not a lot of things are concrete aside from her collar. The way Mother’s temper flares at the slightest disgrace; what was courtesy yesterday is disrespect today. The whip marks may never truly heal from her skin, especially from that one incident with the blood.

She hated that.

But Father’s eyes had been something special.

That’s what it is now, she realizes. The second thing in his eyes. Whatever it was, it’s the same thing as when he bandaged her back after Mother whipped it bloody. She was only ten at the time, and her own eyes held tears she was trying furiously to hold back, but they simply wouldn’t have it. It’s been more than a year since then, and now she knows better. The tears will be stayed, or else Mother’s wrath gets worse.

It also gets worse when she doesn’t see tears, to be fair. There’s no winning in this house unless you’re Mother or Father. Or maybe one of the dealers at the poker tables.

Father makes a noise in her throat and she stops on instinct. Looks up to him- even sitting down he’s so tall- and walks over to her in that strange gait she’s heard Pirro call a ‘stalk’. “Good job, Throné.”

He pats her head. She closes her eyes and pouts, because now her hair is all messed up, and he laughs. But she does miss the warmth of his hand when he pulls it away. Still, she fixes the part around her eye, now out of place and hard to see through properly.

“Come on, then. I have some work to do. Do you wanna come with me?”

“...Okay,” she says, because accompanying Father on his work is better than staying in the den with just Mother. Even if there’s the smell of blood.

“I hoped you’d say that,” he says with a familiar glint in his eye, and beckons her along.

---

It took a while for her to figure out what that look in his eye meant.

She didn’t think about it even after he died. Even after the word “dad” spilt from her lips like the blood from his stomach, the life leaving him even as he held her hand and wanted nothing anymore but the love from a daughter he’d thought he’d lost. He had it, in the end. Claude didn’t get what he wanted, and neither did her true mother, and neither did Mother-

But maybe at least Father is happy in whatever hell he’s in. Happy that he got his daughter.

It took a long, long while. But she finally saw it again.

In Osvald’s eyes.

Elena has apparently discovered some huge conspiracy within whatever organization controls the labeling of soulstones. Naturally, Osvald agreed to accompany her, and Throné was bored, so she decided to tag along. In secret, because Elena is a nice girl and Osvald’s daughter shouldn’t be caught mingling with thieves.

He’s probably noticed her by now, though.

She’s ranting about something or other. It sounds remarkably less like the man himself and more like Partitio rambling about whatever new invention he’s discovered, excited almost more than Ochette catching a whiff of good meat. The look in her eyes is soft but determined, a combination she’s never seen before but wants to associate with pure-hearted children.

Osvald is of course proud of his daughter. It’s in his eyes- pride, and what she can now safely define as affection.

It’s almost unfathomable to think it was in Father’s eyes.

Almost.

Because wasn’t that what it was all about? Mother cared for nothing, Claude dispassionate, Pirro setting aside whatever reservations he had in search of luxury. But Father was nothing like any of them. He told her where to go, gave her a warning but knew she’d follow because he never cared about this game. None of it- not the garden, not the tests, nothing.

He wanted a daughter. And Claude took that away from him. So he hid, and bid his time, and knew that the only thing that could get him his daughter was his skills with a blade, and so he used them. And then, when he had her, he realized:

What did he have to give her?

The answer wasn’t much. A life of crime. Of death. That she didn’t enjoy, he must’ve realized. That fateful day, when he asked if she liked the smell of blood, and she asked for the raspberry jam she loved back home. He’d given her some, but looked contemplative as he stared out a window. Perhaps he forgot, in all his quest for the things he wanted, that not everyone was as bloodthirsty as he was.

And yet he tried anyway. He did, in the end, give her the one thing she wanted- her freedom. With Father alive, there could be no freedom, even if he had simply handed over the key. He knew the truth- the spiraling, awful, toxic truth. He knew the Lostseed tale and the man who presided over a fallen kingdom.

It was a gift to him, too. A chance to finally leave the hell of a cesspit that was life for him- a wife taken, his daughter raised into this awful cycle, having to deal with Mother as a cohort.

“Father. Wherever you are...”

She starts down the path, realizing that Elena and Osvald are gone. She’ll catch up. She always does.

“I hope you’re happy.”

--

this is pretty short and really only has me as the target demographic so I thought I'd post it on tumblr instead of ao3 if you want me to post it on ao3, leave a comment and I'll post it though, I get not wanting to read your fanfiction on tumblr lmao

~Eve6262

#octopath traveler #octopath traveler 2 #octopath 2 spoilers #throne anguis #osvald v. vanstein #elena octopath #elena v. vanstein #father octopath #writing #fanfiction

[eve6262]

Theres so many subgroups of the Psychonauts fandom... there's general fans who jump around from specific character to character, there's the Harcore Old People Enjoyers who are hooked on the Psychic 7, there's the Intern Enthusiasts, the elusive Thorney Towers stans, those with OC lore deeper than most of the canon characters, the people who haven't played/don't like the second game and are overattached to Sasha Nein (and probably Milla too), the people who are the one-man fandoms for a single random character like Gristol or Oleander or Boyd or Marona, the people who can somehow remember every plot detail from every game in order at all times. So many different types of fans, hello I am waving at all of you.

#psychonauts #psychonauts 2 #hehehehhe loboto my funny little guy <3 #either Thorney Towers Enthusiast or one-woman fan

[eve6262]

I got a display tablet. this is a massive buff. can't believe the devs let this one through.

sorry for the white bg, usually I draw on grey to save my and your eyes but unfortunately I was too excited

anyway, playing with throné like a paper doll as always

~Eve6262

#throne anguis #octopath traveler #octopath traveler 2 #art

[eve6262]

MASSIVE OCTOPATH 2 SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT. LIKE FINAL FINAL BOSS SHIT

so I just did a proper attempt at the true final boss for the first time (I technically did one attempt where I knew I would die b/c B Team wasn't leveled, I wanted to see if A Team was on par yet or if they also needed grinding) and. YOU JUST CAN'T FUCKING REVIVE PEOPLE????? HELLOOO?????

for anyone wondering my setup is:

A Team: Throne // Merchant [she is my carry, rest can save her + get her SP for more ults. she has like 500 speed maybe more. queen shit] Ochette // Armsmaster [the breaking queen, and tank of the team. somehow though she has the least base HP of everyone? I do not know how this happened. she will be getting the stat increase items I think] Temenos // Conjurer [not super useful class imho but B team doesn't have the JP for it anyway, and I'm not grinding more of that if I can avoid it] Osvald // Arcanist [the light and dark spells are really good with Alephan on, + if he's not very useful at a point in the fight he can ult Throne while she has speed up and save me an ungodly amount of turns]

B Team: Castti // Inventor [someone's gotta have this class I guess? Castti and Partitio are tied for "most 'idk what the fuck to do here' turns and I think she's prettier in the outfit] Partitio // Scholar [he was gonna be my MDPS of the team. he will be relegated to dancer by my next attempt. by the end of the fight he had one purpose: give Throne BP] Agnea // Cleric [turned out to be a blessing in disguise, I just had a feeling I'd need a cleric bc of how useful Temenos turned out to be. since you literally can't use apothecary heal during the "cannot revive people" phase unless no one is dead, IMPORTANT.] Hikari // Hunter [initially this was for leghold trap. however now it's staying b/c he has become Break Boy (his job is to break the enemy so Throne's ult does more dmg)]

sorry Partitio. you are support. and sorry Castti you are extremely useful normally, just in this fight with double cleric you don't need to heal nearly as often. tbh sweeping cleave did some heavy lifting so it's not like her "what do I do" here turns were negatively, it's just genuinely difficult to decided what to do- use latent talent, poison axe, sweeping cleave, maybe even heal herself higher

I think maybe swapping Partitio to dancer ult and then using it on probably Temenos could work? during final phase with all 8 out. Because Temenos can use both Prayer to the Flame and Prayer for Plenty on everyone that way. Temmy and Throne carry is really the moral of the story here

you may also notice that B team, despite going second, has no AOE for the 2nd phase. this is because I am an Idiot and I just brute forced it with Hikari's latent talent, Brand ult, Castti's sweeping cleave and poison axe.

In theory, I could swap them out so the teams are something more like a/b/a/b and b/a/b/a but I got through the first 2 phases fine so I don't think that'll help me much.

if you made it this far, I'll be posting some fanfiction hopefully soon to drown my "YOU CAN'T REVIVE???" and then Hikari instantly dies woes.

#octopath traveler #octopath traveler 2 #words of the dead #like AAAA #spoilers #octopath 2 spoilers #not spoiling in the tags but #screaming #this shit is HARD #I forgor how hard it can get bc #I overleveled to like 50 just running around before any ch2 #because I am a menace